In The Making
by Comma-Toes
Summary: Next Gen. Slash. James is charismatic, Lily is gorgeous and Albus is…a shy genius happy to hide in his family's shadow. Scorpius is an acerbic miscreant with a soft spot for Albus alone— Disaster or phenomenon? Too soon to tell. Year One: Snake Trials.
1. Silver and Green

_**In The Making**_

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><p><strong>Year One: Snake Trials<strong>

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><p><em>Chapter One:<em> Silver and Green

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><p><em>"A musician must make music, an artist must paint, a poet must write, if he is to be ultimately at peace with himself. What a man can be, he must be." <em>- Abraham Maslow

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><p>"Oh god, <em>James, <em>what did you _do_ to him?"

"Jeez, Rose, calm yourself, it's just a little prank—"

"That's so horrible, _look _at you, Dear!"

"C'mon, now, he was being rude, just sitting in the corner reading like a wallflower—"

"You're the one being rude," Fred cut in, frowning at his best friend and sighing. "Albus was minding his own, and you had to go turn him green."

The dark-skinned boy was speaking quite literally. James had sent a paper butterfly flying over the youngest male Potter's way and the moment the boy had reached up to touch it—it had bled green ink all over his hand. Over the course of the next ten seconds or so, the magic had seeped over every inch of skin he had. Albus Severus Potter was just as emerald as his eyes now.

"Oh, don't be a spoil sport, Freddy," James grinned, "It'll wear off before we get to the feast."

"You don't think I know that?" Fred huffed, exasperated. Albus knew that he, too, enjoyed his pranks –he was his father's son, after all— but he usually knew what was good natured fun and what wasn't. Albus was already nervous enough about his first year without James's help. "It _is_ my father's invention."

"Oh, Dear, here…" Molly licked her thumb and rubbed at that raven haired boy's cheek, who blushed furiously as she did so.

"It's not going to wash away, Mol," Rose informed her good naturedly. She met Albus's eyes and giggled, "You look like Christmas, blushing like that, Al."

"…Oh hush," He mumbled, not liking the way his cheek felt after Molly had rubbed saliva on it. But he felt it would be rude to rub his cheek dry in front of her.

Albus closed the book he'd been reading, setting it in his lap and trying to keep his gaze away from the window so that he wouldn't have to face his ridiculous reflection.

"I'm just playing with you, Bro, you know that." James told him, reaching across the compartment and punching the petite boy's arm with a wink.

"That doesn't make it _right._" Rose snapped at him, glaring at the older boy. He looked more like his father in the face, already growing into a square jaw, though his auburn hair was curly, something he'd gotten from his grandmother.

"It's fine…at least it will wear off."

"I got you, though, didn't I?" James laughed boisterously, "You haven't fallen for one of my pranks in a while. Usually you get all _Slytherin _on me and make it blow up in my face somehow."

"Yeah, you got me." Albus replied, forcing a smile in his older brother's direction. He could hear Molly harrumph out of the corner of his eye and cross her soft arms over her chest.

Molly also had curly hair like the woman she was named after, a shade of vibrant red. Percy had been the only Weasley in the entire batch to marry another redhead, and it seemed she had gotten double the ginger as a result with a face full of freckles to boot. She was a wholesome looking girl, and Albus always got the impression of apple pie when he looked at her.

Rose, on the other hand, while also a redhead (albeit a darker shade), was tall for her age and her thin frame did nothing but accentuate it. She had retained much of her mother's features, as well as the frizzy texture of her hair, but unlike the bookworm she knew how to take care of it.

"I might be able to undo it, if you want, Albus," Rose said suddenly, digging through the never-ending purse that her mother had made for her. "I know my mom gave me a book on how to counter-jinx almost all of the Weasley toys—not that I've _read_ it or anything, but….y'know, I could probably find it for you."

Albus gave her a sweet, genuine smile. "Thanks, Rose, but don't worry yourself with it, yeah? I'll just wait till it wears off."

Rose looked dubious for a moment, but rolled her big brown eyes

"You're both despicable," Molly told the two second year students sitting across from her. She was the oldest of the group, with two full years of Hogwarts schooling under belt, and certainly acted the part.

"What? _I _didn't do anything." Fred claimed, aghast at the accusation. "That was all James."

"That was _all _James," Molly repeated suspiciously.

"That's what I just _said, _isn't it? Jeez, woman, just 'cause he's my mate doesn't mean I'm in on _all _his devious little plans—"

"Oh _yes, _it _does_."

"Will the two of you cut it out?" Rose groaned, her head falling back to look at the ceiling. "You both fight like an old married couple. And you're cousins, so that's _gross._"

"_Rose!"_ Was the older girl's indignant, disgusted reply.

"Oh, shut up," Fred growled at her, raking his hand over the short dreadlocks that he had started growing in the first year of Hogwarts.

James snickered and nodded at Albus as though to get his attention. Ablus, who had never lost awareness of the situation to begin with, glanced at him.

His older brother just burst out laughing, "I was gonna ask if-hahahahaha-you wanted to play exploding snap but—hahahahah—you just look _ridiculous! _Oh Merlin, hahahahaha-!"

Albus released his breath slowly and stood up, "I'm going to go look for Lorcan and Lysander."

"Looking like that?" Rose balked, then blushed herself for blurting it out so openly. Albus just nodded at her and shrugged in response.

"Well, it's what I look like right for the moment, so…yes."

"Good luck with that, Al," James snickered, straightening his glasses. They were black and circular, just like their father's had been when he was young. It was as though he _wanted _to be compared with the man. His eyes were brown and his hair light, so although the shape of his face and the sharp angle of his nose was more like _the _Harry Potter's, Albus was the one who was always compared to the war hero. James, for some reason, resented that about him.

Albus really couldn't understand it.

"If those Hufflepuffs start boring you, you can always come back," James declared as Albus slid the door open. As he was closing it behind him, he heard his brother jeer, "Perhaps I should have dyed him canary yellow instead?"

The now green-skinned boy hugged his book to his chest and glared at the ground in the empty hallway. Green, then, had been chosen for a reason. Of course, he could have guessed that. He adjusted the tome in his hold and started down the hall, listening intently for a quiet compartment, preferably where he could continue reading for the next few hours that still remained of the trip. He did enjoy Lorcan and Lysander's company, but they were certainly not the people to go to when one wasn't in the mood for noise.

He was nearly bumped into a by a few older students at some point, though he quietly let them pass as they ran down the hall, seemingly on their way to join a small party at the front of the train, if what he gathered by their chatter was anything to go by.

"Oh gosh, poor thing. What'chu thing happened to him?"

"Probably some Gryffindor prank. Idiots, the lot of them."

_True that,_ Albus found himself thinking before he could stop himself, and he pressed his palm to his forehead with a moan. _I didn't mean that. I really didn't._

Would the Sorting Hat see that?

Would it refuse to listen to his plea based on that thought alone?

No, he decided as he continued his trek down the long hall, the train rumbling beneath his loafers, the Hat had years of _other _examples for why he belonged in Slytherin. Sometimes he felt like his entire life was a giant example for why he should be in Slytherin.

For instance, the fact that he had been intercepting most of James's practical jokes for the last four years of his life. Albus was a smart one, smarter than he let anyone know, and that in itself was a Slytherin trait. He didn't want to give away all of his secrets; he kept his intelligence to himself so as to avoid questions. To avoid attention. He was a timid boy but that did not mean that he could not _lie _when it suited him.

And, to be honest, lying suited him a lot.

James was the kind of person that demanded attention, whether or not it was good. He had collected a degree of both during his life and his first year at Hogwarts. One of the better things he'd managed to make the papers for was being made seeker as a first year, just like his father had. Of course, he had been made seeker because of who he was rather than talent…not that Albus was ever say that out loud. However, James had also managed to get suspended for sneaking out of the castle and into the Forbidden Forest on a dare. Fred had helped in the endeavor, but James had wanted all the credit. Therefore Fred had given it to him.

Anyone that took attention away from James would be the target of whatever foolish prank he decided was a suitable punishment for besting him.

In James's opinion, looking like Albus did, with his messy ink black hair and his startling, large green eyes, was _asking _for it.

Which was why he'd allowed James to get away with turning him green instead of saying the counter spell that he was well aware of that would have made the butterfly return to its owner.

Not that the image of a green James wasn't amusing as all hell.

Besides, Albus wasn't the kind to hog _anything_, let alone the limelight. His father's stories of how fame had always annoyed him had struck a chord within his mind. He didn't need to be special or different.

Well, scratch that. He _was _different, but not one needed to know that.

Being in Slytherin would not help matters.

It wasn't as though he was prejudiced. The war had ended almost twenty years ago, and he himself was more than Halfblooded. His father had taught him well never to hate anyone until they gave you a reason to, and even then, do your best not to. It wasn't about pride. Completely disregarding the fact that he would be completely alone in Slytherin because the entirety of his family was in Gryffindor, because that _was _a small part of it…it was mostly about not stirring the settled cauldron. James was relatively dormant, but the moment Albus started being his own person—something not even the older boy had managed—the older Potter would escalate.

Albus didn't want to…tickle the sleeping dragon, as it were.

Harry Potter's son in Slytherin would certainly be doing just that.

When he finally found an empty compartment, he was too slow opening the door and an older couple manhandled their way into it before he could. The girl giggled as her boyfriend pushed her down onto one of the seats, her skirt riding up in a fashion that had the young Potter looking away abruptly with his face lighting up red.

Standing in the doorway, the Ravenclaw adolescent (probably a sixth year, if Albus had to guess) winked at him.

"Sorry, kiddo, Dalia here needs help changing into her robes. You understand don't you?" The older boy smirked and waved condescendingly.

Then promptly slammed the door in Albus's green face.

This was _not _his day.

He stared at the door of his usurped compartment for a long moment, before beginning to look once more. He was nearing the end of the train when he reached a compartment that seemed peaceful enough. Of course, it could be someone using a silencing charm.

Well, he would never know until he tried. He pushed the door open.

The scene there should not have been as shocking as it was. It was a lone boy around his age if Albus had to guess, with his trunk set in the center of the compartment between the seats with a chessboard on top. However, the boy was astounding _blond_, which had Albus nearly turning on his heel, hoping he could move fast enough that the other preteen would think he was an apparition.

He was obviously a Malfoy.

Albus was not so idiotic as to not be able to _tell._ In fact, he was quite the opposite. The platinum hair, the crisp robes, the single cocked eyebrow when his gaze traveled over to the intruder—

"Ahh—" The train hit a bump, and Albus was sent flying, his slight form actually leaving the ground with the force of it. He did a belly flop onto the seat across from the blond, wincing as his book dug into his hip. He peered up at Malfoy, who didn't look all that amused, and pushed himself up, stumbling for something to say.

"_Adglutino_ _humanus._" Albus blurted out before he could stop himself.

"Gesundheit," Malfoy deadpanned.

"Ah—no, no, I mean…that's the spell you used on you chessboard so the pieces wouldn't fall." Albus pushed himself up into a sitting position, flushing darkly once more. "Otherwise that bump would have scattered your game. It makes them stick in place unless human flesh touches them."

"…Ah." Brilliant, sky blue eyes flickered down at the board. Albus had seen pictures of Draco Malfoy in the paper before, and he remembered that his eyes were a dull, bluish grey. Nothing like this boy's eyes. "My father cast it for me."

"Oh." Albus said, rubbing the back of his neck and giving a shy grin, continuing to ramble. "Oh, of course. It's a fourth year spell, and I don't even think it's on their curriculum to learn anyway—"

"Then how did you know it?"

"Huh?"

"If it's a fourth year spell," Malfoy repeated, drawling, "How did _you_ know it?"

Albus paused, and asked slowly, "I …don't suppose you'd believe me if I told you I was fourteen."

The blue-eyed boy smirked, "Potter, I barely believe you're _eleven._"

"Oi," Albus snapped, annoyed at the insinuation. "I do so look eleven."

"Barely."

"Shove off."

"Sensitive, are we?"

"_No, _ I am just very, _very _certain that I look eleven. Besides—" Albus cut himself off, realizing two things instantaneously. Firstly, that he was indeed acting as though he was sensitive, replying in such a defensive manner, and secondly…

…he had fallen into a rather playful, amiable repartee with Malfoy spawn.

"Besides?" The smirking boy prompted.

"Er," Albus paused, looking away and recalling that the other had called him 'Potter'. "So you… know who I am."

"Doesn't everyone?" Leaning back, the pale-haired boy regarded Albus in a fashion that made him even more nervous. "You knew who I was too. I could see it in your eyes."

"Yeah, well…you look like your father." Albus hated saying that. It was said to him enough that the phrase tasted like one of the worst Bertie Bots flavors imaginable.

"As do you," the young Malfoy replied flippantly, before chuckling, "Well, except for—"

"The scar." Albus finished for him bitterly. It was predictable at this point.

The smirk settled in even deeper. "I was going to say your _skin._"

"My sk-_oh._" Albus laughed at himself, surprised that the interaction had made him forget that he was still green from head to toe. "Yeah, that's my brother for you."

"Your brother painted you Slytherin green?"

"Yeah, he goes around saying that I'll be put in Slytherin for sure."

"That's nice of him."

"Of course you'd say that."

"Why, do you think of it as an _insult?"_

"Not exactly," Albus muttered, shrugging, "I don't know. On one hand, I'd like to break the pattern a bit. I think I'd…do well in Slytherin, but I don't think I want to call that much attention to myself. I mean, every kid in my family has been in the paper just for being _born._"

"I was too," said Malfoy.

"You were?" Albus blinked, suddenly interested.

"Yes." His voice took on a dull tone that Albus deduced was hiding irritation. " The headline was 'Death Eater Spawn, Miracle or Menace?'."

Albus flinched, "Oh. Sorry."

"It's fine." A mischievous smile played on his lips, "It poses a good question. Menace, I say, what do you think?"

Albus couldn't help but cackle at the words, "I _think_…I haven't introduced myself properly."

"No, you haven't." Malfoy sniffed in a faux-haughty way that the raven-haired boy couldn't help but find amusing. "It was really quite rude of you. I would have said something, but I figured you must be having one of those _days, _seeing as you're _green_."

"Yes, well," Albus grinned, holding out a hand for him. "Albus Potter."

"Scorpius Malfoy." The well-dressed wizard responded, taking the green hand in his own and shaking firmly.

They released a moment later. Albus settled his hand in his lap and brought his gaze back to the chessboard. It was a nice one, made of glass, one team was crystal clear while the other was opaque. Then it occurred to him, something that hadn't before.

"Is this a _muggle _set?"

"Caught on, did you?" He inquired, picking up his King and nodding, "I'm not much for them smashing each other. I prefer this kind."

"Really?" Albus asked, setting his book to the side and scooting closer to the edge of his seat, "Could I play?"

"I'm in the middle of a game, Potter." Scorpius drawled, though his eyes were playful.

"Yeah, with _yourself._"

"You have a point there, Potter." The blond assented with a sigh, setting the pieces back into place manually, "But just so you know, I don't _lose._"

_What a coincidence,_ Albus thought mildly, _because I don't win._

Of course, his family just thought him abysmal at chess, but Albus never really saw the good in winning. His father was horrible at chess, but other than that most of the people in the family were related to Ronald Weasley, therefore they were quite good at the game and didn't like to lose.

Albus was better than all of them.

The green-eyed boy found himself pitted against someone almost daily in his household. His parents weren't usually the one to goad him into it, but James enjoyed beating him and pitched a fit whenever he was beaten. So Albus lost to him. Lily, his gorgeous, sweet, little sister, was too enthusiastic about it for him to stomp into the ground. So Albus lost to her, as well. He threw in an occasional stalemate to mix things up, she was younger than him after all, and just grinned sheepishly when people scoffed at his obvious lack of skill.

This went for all his other aunts, uncles and cousins as well. He knew the personality of the person, and depending on their mood he would decide how badly they should beaten him. Everyone liked to win, and Albus usually had little interest in taking that away from them.

It was all about _them._

This time, however, he didn't quite want to make a fool of himself for some reason. But he also sensed that Scorpius was a sore loser.

Stalemate it was, then.

The game progressed for about an hour. Scorpius was actually a brilliant player, probably better than all of his family, except for Uncle Ron, and so he allowed the boy to give him a run for his money. Albus could see ahead steps and steps, knowing that if he moved his bishop to the other end of the board, he could potentially make a check that would lead to a check mate in only a few moves. Scorpius saw that too and reacted accordingly. Nothing in the Malfoy's demeanor suggested panic at realizing the fault in play but his next several moves were that of a man grasping for life.

But Albus let him recover, and before long, the young Malfoy had capture three vital pieces including his precious queen. No matter how much he chased his piece, however, there was no possible way he could corner Albus's king with the few men he had left.

"Stalemate, then, yeah?" Albus asked, and a he caught the nod from the corner of his eye. He looked up at the silence, cocking his head curiously.

Those blue eyes were narrow.

"Again."

"Er, alright." Albus relented easily enough and helped reset for another game.

This game lasted longer than the one before it. It was slow, calculating, and as they weren't timing each other they were allowed to be. Albus could see twenty different paths to winning halfway through the game, but he resisted. This time it ended on more equal terms, with both kings standing alone on the barren surface of the board.

"So—" Albus started, about to stated the obvious.

"Stalemate." Scorpius muttered, voice hard. "Yeah."

He looked angry. Albus swallowed thickly and shifted in his seat. Maybe he should have let him win the second time.

"Do you want to—?"

Scorpius cut him off. "I'm finished with chess. Go back to reading_ whatever _that is."

Albus stared for a moment at him, thinking about telling him that it was a book on advanced defensive spells, but that the cover of it had been spelled to read 'Elementary Charms' but he thought better of it. The smaller boy lowered his eyes, his stomach turning over in his abdomen. This was why he didn't win.

"Better yet," Scorpius crossed his arms over his chest, putting the chess set back in its case and snapping it shut so hard Albus recoiled a bit. "Go get dressed. We'll be arriving in the next twenty minutes."

"Oh—er…"

"You're not green anymore, by the way."

Albus looked down at his hands and nodded, though there was still a cold sensation in his stomach. He stood up and straightened his shirt slightly, picking up his book and fiddling with it.

Scorpius didn't look up.

"Well…ah, goodbye then. I'll—I guess I'll see you in the hall?"

"Hnm." The noise was neither affirmative nor negative, but Albus made himself leave the partition just the same. He'd screwed up out of a competitive streak that he hadn't even known was there.

What was _wrong _with him? He should have lost. He knew it. Maybe if he could play Malfoy again he could make him understand—

He made his way back to the compartment that held his cousins and siblings, gathering his uniform and pulling it on just as the train was starting to slow down. He felt the train quivering to a stop finally and, though he had intended to wait patiently for the bulk of students to pass, he instead found himself joining the masses piling out of the train. He nearly stumbled, separating from his brother once more as he did his best to look around, searching.

Unfortunately, he was at a height disadvantage.

"Oh, blimey—" Albus muttered, climbing onto a bench and managing to see the tall, thick figure of Rubeus Hagrid beckoning first years over.

Students were running into each other, though luckily the older students were headed to the carriages and were splitting away from the first years.

Finally, he spotted him, and he thanked Merlin that Malfoy had such a ludicrously noticeable hair color. If he'd been a brunette, Albus would have been doomed.

He jumped down and rushed over, excusing himself and apologizing as he ran into a few people and right passed the half-giant with a polite wave, before piling into the boat right after the blond. He panted, scrambling to seat himself at the taller wizard's side. Scorpius did not look impressed, lifting his chin when emerald orbs raised to meet him.

"I—uh, just wanted to ask…you why you're mad. It was a lucky break, after all, if you play me again I'm sure you'll win," Albus proposed quickly before he could be interrupted.

Malfoy sneered in a way that _quite _reminded Albus of the picture he'd seen in the paper of the boy's father. Had he been a fool to think he could be friends with someone like him?

"…You did it on purpose."

The response startled Albus, staring and stammering, "W—What?"

"I saw you. I was watching you the entire time. You think I wouldn't notice?" Scorpius snarled at him, grabbing the collar of Albus's shirt and pulling him in to whisper furiously, "Was that your clever way of calling me _daft?"_

"N—_No_, I wasn't—of course not!"

Clear blue eyes narrowed and burned into shocked green ones. "You're lying to me. I don't _like_ it."

"I thought that's what Slytherin's did best," Albus couldn't help but retort, despite knowing what uneven ground he was on.

"So," Scorpius paused, considering him, "You admit you're a Slytherin at heart?"

"I never _denied_ it," Albus stated, shifting and managing to pull away from the other. Scorpius willingly allowed him to retreat, still frowning.

"I suppose you didn't. I still don't like what you did."

"…Don't take it personally," Albus murmured, looking over his shoulder at the other children in the boat. They were too in awe of the castle and the ethereal glow of the moon on its stone walls to pay attention to the quarrel. Albus continued to explain meekly, " I—do it with everyone. Just don't tell, alright?"

There was a long silence on Scorpius' part.

"You…stalemate with everyone you play with?"

"Well, no," Albus sighed, admitting to him as he adjusted his collar, "Usually I lose."

There was another thoughtful moment of quiet where the movement of the water as it was shifted by the boat and the gasps of the other children were all to be heard.

"…Winning is one thing. Most people win with _some_ strategy and a _lot_ of luck—but being smart enough to know the game so well that you can dictate how the other person is going to _win?" _Scorpius whistled a long and slow whistle, "That's talent, Potter. No, that's more than talent, that is …bloody _brilliant _is what it is."

"Don't tell." Then, for good measure, Albus added, "_Please_, don't tell."

"…I won't, but only if you answer me this."Albus should have expected as much from a future Slytherin. He nodded hesitantly in approval. "If you usually let people win, why did you just stalemate me? Why didn't you just let _me _win?"

"Er…I don't know."

"_Potter—"_ Scorpius warned.

"Fine then! _Fine._ I…" Albus averted his eyes and muttered, "I guess I just—didn't want to lose to you. I don't know why, I just—didn't want to be a loser, for once."

Albus paused and smiled embarrassedly, inserting wryly, "And I honestly didn't think you'd _notice._"

Scorpius took in his expression for a long moment, before sinking into a more relaxed position in the war hero offspring's company.

"You know, you aren't the only person trying to live in spite of the legacy of your father. I want to _outshine _mine…you want to too, just in a different way. You don't want to be _known—_which is something your father could never achieve."

Albus yanked his head up, blinking. "What?"

"You heard me." Scorpius muttered as he boat pulled up to the dock. He climbed out and the raven-haired boy followed, but his arm was suddenly taken by the Malfoy heir as he tugged him toward the great open doors, whispering in his ear, "Try not to over think things, Potter. I think Slytherin house would be _proud_ to have you."

For some reason, that statement made Albus' stomach grow warm. It made him want to straighten his posture, made him want to smile…

…and in the end, it was probably what made him sit on that stool, knees trembling with apprehension as he let the Sorting Hat put him where it saw fit.

"_SLYTHERIN!"_

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><p><strong>I'm very excited about this story and I would love to know what you think. Hopefully this will be a long one, depicting the long haul of Albus and Scorpius' seven years, maybe more. <strong>

**Reviews make me write like mofo. XD Therefore...**

**Review please! You know you want to.**

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	2. A History

_**In The Making**_

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><p><strong>Year One: Snake Trials<strong>

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><p><em>Chapter Two:<em> A History

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><p><em>"History deals mainly with captains and kings, gods and prophets, exploiters and despoilers, not with useful men."<em> -Henry Louis Mencken

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><p>Albus had been surprised to hear loud applause from the Slytherin table when the hat had called out.<p>

There had been a pause, before the explosion of noise, in which he thought he would have to walk to the table in silence. But then it had sounded, like a tidal wave, louder than he'd heard them applaud for anyone and it shocked Albus so much that McGonagall had to remind him to stand up and start over to his table. The once bare crest on his robe turned green, as did his previously grey tie, as the young wizard made his way over to his house's table thoughtfully.

It was too much applause-too much vigor to be _genuine._

And as he approached the table, he realized just why. It wasn't genuine at all. Almost every face in the house held a barely controlled sneer. The faces that were nonchalant or merely weary were few and far between. Eyes of contempt were burning into him as their applause died down and he came to sit at the end of the table beside Scorpius, who had saved him a spot.

Albus had been starved before those derisive faces were directed at him, so he lost his appetite and only managed to eat half a helping, something that would leave him famished when he woke up the next morning. Scorpius patted his shoulder lightly, but other than that offered no other form of comfort in the wake of cold Slytherins.

Not even the beautiful night sky above him or the delicious food in his stomach could lighten the weight of those stares. The Great Hall was a glorious, beautiful room, perhaps even more beautiful than it had been before the second war. There was a painting of it in the Potter home in Grimmauld place, the way it had been before, but seeing the huge dining room in person did it more justice than any painting would. But still, those frigid eyes were on him, and his attention was pulled away from the beauty of the architecture and general ambience.

It had been twenty _years._ Albus had been sure whatever grudge Slytherins held against his family had faded away.

Theodore Nott was the Potions Master and head of Slytherin house, and as such he was the one who greeted them when the lot of students entered the common room after being led there by a tall Slytherin, who also happened to be Head Boy, Antony Rafe. He was a kind but assertive chocolate skinned male and one of the few people that didn't look at Albus like he was scum that needed to be scraped off the floor.

They seated themselves in the many chairs and couches that were set up all around the common room; there were plenty of seats to go around in the large expanse of grey stone and green drapery. There were only around three hundred Slytherins in total in the entirety of the House, and a common room so wide and well-furnished had to be ready to seat at least four hundred.

Albus supposed it wasn't as cliché as he thought it would look. There were only dark greens, silvers and shades of grey, but there were no skeletons hanging from the walls. There wasn't even a painting of Salazar Slytherin in sight. It was actually rather cozy in certain areas, although the center of the room was nothing but space of cool stone floor, making a wide aisle from the entrance to the stairs that led to the dormitory.

"As you can see," Professor Nott started in a loud, booming voice, "There are only three hundred and twelve of us."

Actually, there were three hundred and eleven, but Albus kept the correction to himself.

"Gryffindor house has twice as many students." That was true, Albus mused, listening to the professor with dirty blond hair carefully. After the war, many students had _chosen _to be in Gryffindor house because they had dreams of becoming heroes themselves like great Harry Potter, savior of the magical world. Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff had over a hundred more students in their ranks than Slytherin House, which had become much lesspopular since the war. Slytherin had only received twenty-one first years at the feast, while Gryffindor had gotten close to fifty. "That means that we will act as one. I do not care what your discrepancies are with those within our house—should you have them, you will take care of them _within the confines of our common room._"

Albus frowned slightly as the professor's gaze traveled to him and then pointedly to the rest of the students.

"Which means that I will be punishing anyone who hexes, jinx, curses or so much as _insults_ another Slytherin while in the company of a non Slytherin." Harsh brown eyes were surveying the room, "That is my only true rule. I want you to get along, but if you _cannot…"_

Nott made a show of shrugging and making a flippant gesture with his hand, "Then do so in private."

Albus regarded the man coolly, though the concept was outrageously unethical to him, it also made sense on a Slytherin level. The war had made the rivalry between houses and bias against the Slytherins impossibly worse. It was a quiet partiality, not something that was notable, but the basic mentality was…Slytherins against the world.

Therefore, to show cruelty to someone within Slytherin to an outsider would be like saying not even _Slytherins_ like Slytherins.

A united front.

So that's why they had clapped for him. Because opening showing other houses hatred for one of their own was as good as offering them a weakness to exploit-nothing more than that.

Nott went on about unity for another minute or so, throwing a couple jokes in here and there that made the collective body hum with laughter. He was a likable chap, that was for sure, but Albus couldn't help but be nervous about the entire situation. Even now, during the speech, there were people casting glances at him. He'd heard his brother say before that people were 'banished' to Slytherin, as though being in the house itself was some sort of punishment. Was he the loved son of a king amongst the exiled? Was he a lion cub in the den of snakes?

No, he had Scorpius. But he barely knew the boy, and though he'd been his first acquaintance, there was little tying the other to him. Certainly the Malfoy name had taken a blow after the war from all around. Those that had fought against Voldemort hated the family for being Death Eaters, and those that had fought _with_ Voldemort hated them for not taking their rightful punishment for honorably serving their master. They had all gotten off without a sentence in Azkaban, so although it wasn't an inexcusable crime, it did not make him well-liked.

But, however unknowingly, the Potter family had exacerbated the stigma attached to Slytherin house. Scorpius would not be starting at the top of the food chain, but Albus was _clearly _at the bottom.

He was right to be apprehensive.

Because over the course of the next few weeks, he learned to despise his common room and dormitory.

The first day of classes he'd moved to get up from his desk and had found his shoelaces melded together, nearly falling flat on his face in front of everyone. Luckily, he'd caught himself and recognized the jinx, so he had been able to use a counter curse. Albus had written it off as his brother's doing, somehow. James was not the fastest broom in the cupboard but he could be crafty when he wanted to be, not to mention that Fred did indeed help with the finer intricacies of their plans.

However, after returning to the common room after the day of classes had ended, he'd found himself jinxed four times by four different students on his way to the restroom. On his way out of the toilet, he'd nearly fallen down the stairs because of a tripping hex, and probably would have busted his face if Scorpius hadn't been there to grab his elbow and steady him.

"I say we go to the library before dinner," Scorpius had suggested smoothly. Albus had swallowed and nodded at him and followed the blond to the library for a much awaited Chess rematch.

His family was more supportive than he would have guessed. Even James, though disgruntled, seemed to like the fact that he'd been _right _about something for once. Molly was sweet as ever, Fred had just grinned and thought that meant he had an inside man whenever he wanted to prank the Slytherins, and Rose had rolled her eyes at his nervousness and simpered, _"I don't like you hanging around with that Malfoy fellow, but if you really must…I suppose there are worse people to consort with."_

Victoire, who Albus had never really gotten along with, was Head Girl and therefore had many responsibilities to attend to with Antony Rafe. She had merely made a flippant gesture and told him not to cause trouble for Antony.

It was really too bad Dominique had chosen to go to Beauxbatons, and Louis had decided to go to Durmstrang. Although Bill had fought for them all to be put into Hogwarts, and Fluer had wanted them all to go to other European wizardry schools, the couple had decided to let their children decide for themselves when the time came. For the other children in the Weasley family, there had been no such choice—Hogwarts had been the home of both their parents, and therefore it would be theirs as well.

Not even The Daily Prophet had been as horrible as Albus had expected. In fact, while their headline had not been overtly kind, the article was well written and explored if Albus's placement meant that Slytherin was 'not so bad'.

The month passed at an alarmingly slow rate. Though there had been several more private chess matches with Scorpius and homework to distract him from the animosity of the majority of his housemates, there were several incidents that had him seriously doubting the Sorting Hat's omnipotence. Had it truly thought that he would do well in a house where he had only had one friend –well, Scorpius was more of a friendly acquaintance—and where the head of his house openly condoned bullying as long as it was _sneaky?_

Albus had woken up three times with _romander_ leaches in his bed, so for the last two weeks he had begun putting light wards around his four poster bed that would cause whoever passed the invisible lines to pass out on the floor. He'd done it while alone, of course, because while the wards were elementary compared to most, it was still not something that they would probably ever learn in school.

Scorpius had actually laughed for quite some time when he'd woken up to find five Slytherin boys snoring on the floor around the young Potter's bed.

No one had tried such tricks again.

But that meant only that they were forced to resort to more cunning acts. Albus could defend himself from a few jinxes thrown his way, but when a quarter of the house was participating, it was difficult to block.

Scorpius had helped him a time or two, from the nastier curses, but mostly he goaded Albus to fight back.

"Unless you show them that you're better than them, they'll never stop," Scorpius had told him firmly.

"I'm not going to stoop to their level!" Albus had snapped at him as he fought his way out of his robe, that had been spelled to latch onto him in every conceivable way possible. It was squeezing around his neck and wrists in the most _infuriating _fashion, and though it was doing no real damage to him, it was certainly embarrassing to have a wrestling match with one's school uniform in front of the entire house.

"Then you're asking for it," Scorpius then snarled back at him, sitting down on his bed and watching Albus struggle. "Maybe a Gryffindor tormentor, like your brother, would back down because you ignored them. But Slytherins take it as a sign of weakness. It'll only get worse from there. I know plenty of foul spells we could cast on them that would make them think twice about—

"I said _no._" Finally, Albus ripped the traitorous cloth away from him and tossed it on the floor. "_Finite!"_

Panting slightly, Albus simply sunk to his bed and slept for the night after '_accio'_ing his robes and stuffing them in his hamper. All of his homework was completed anyway, and he had no intention of going to dinner; that would just leave room for them to ambush him with something or other when he returned.

Albus had slept until morning, dressing within the confines of his four poster bed behind drawn curtains. He'd learned in the first week that going to the bathrooms and dressing in a stall was not the best of ideas. It was fairly simple for someone to vanishhis clothes just by pointing their want beneath the gap in the door.

Luckily, he'd been able to call for Scorpius, who had given him his cloak, but not without an amused smirk.

He made it out of the dormitory without incident, starting down the stairs that led into the common room. It was even gloomier in the morning, he thought with a sigh, and paused at the last step before quickening his step. Breakfast wouldn't start for another twenty minutes, so most of the early risers were downstairs already, putting the final touches on homework or just staring into the fire while trying to wake themselrves up.

The grey stone was a No Man's land on his way to the opening of the exit. He just wanted to get there, that was all he had to do—

But he'd kept his wand up his sleeve for a reason.

Sure enough, he heard the whispering start up. He wondered what would happen when they learned to cast spells silently and he had no way of knowing when they would hit. Hopefully, since silent spells weren't taught until sixth year, this reign of torture would end by then.

The mumbles of spells shot his way, a blue light, a yellow one, a white one, blurred together. Some were faster than others, and he managed to pull his wand out fast enough to refract several of them with a generic deflection spell.

Two of them managed to hit.

In an instant he felt the very odd sensation of being unable to move, coupled with another, the feeling of his legs being boneless. He reasoned almost instantly that the two spells to hit him had been the Body-Bind Curse and Jelly-Legs Jinx, combined in a mucked up abomination that maintained the basic characteristics of each.

Combined, they had his arms going rigid by his sides and his legs collapsing like there wasn't a muscle in them. Before he could even attempt to regain his balance, Albus was falling forward onto the floor, unable to reach out and catch himself.

This time, Scorpius was not within reach to catch him.

His face hit the stone floor, a sickening snapping sound echoing through the room as his nose broke with the force of it. Albus's eyes watered with the pain of it, but he refused to _cry _in front of these idiots.

A small pool of blood trickled before his eyes, but he could not pull himself away from it. He couldn't even move the weight of it off his nose, the blinding throb seemed to pulse in his brain. They were still _holding _the spell, whoever they were, and he heard a few snickers and a few somewhat worried whispers. No one had meant to break anything, Albus was sure, but now that they had they were worried about what trouble they could be in.

A single voice was his saving grace.

"What the bloody hell have you done to him?"

The voice was not so much a shout as a furious hiss that resounded through the quiet room.

Albus felt relief flood his system, recognizing the voice as his blond companion's. He heard the heels of the Malfoy's shoes coming closer, then hands on his shoulders as he was rather gently pulled onto his back and off of his broken nose.

Scorpius slipped his wand from his pocket and muttered, "_Scourgify_."

At least the blood wouldn't drip into his eyes this way. The blue eyes were passive, his face almost entirely apathetic, but there was a crease in his brow that Albus was beginning to realize meant he was angry. The blond looked up again around the room.

"Who is responsible for this? _Release him._" There was a long pause, and Scorpius sneered, louder, "_Now._"

Albus felt his legs grow stiff as the Jelly-Legs Jinx was released from him, Scorpius standing up and regarding the group of onlookers stoically.

"Er—well, we…" A girl's voice spoke up, "We didn't mean to hurt him. We were just teaching him a lesson—"

"A lesson in _what?_ That he chose wrong when he allowed himself to be put in this house?" Scorpius snapped at her, cold eyes, "All of you are a disgrace to the Slytherin name. The other one—let him go _now._ I'm letting you stay anonymous. But if you don't release him, I'll use a charm that points me to the wand that is casting it. Then, I'll make it my _personal _mission to make this year at Hogwarts _miserable _for you."

There was a pause.

"You know who my father is, who my grandfather _was._ You don't think they taught me a few tricks? They had a lot of things _up their sleeves._"

Albus was a little bit surprised at the remark. Saying 'Death Eater' was not something that was done by most people, but he'd hinted at it so flawlessly that it didn't _need _to be. They knew what he was threatening.

A split second later, Albus's body relaxed into the floor and he gasped sharply at the sensation, the pain of his broken nose even more prevalent now that his body had released the tension that was keeping it at bay.

"Good. You're lucky I don't go to Headmistress McGonagall with this one." Scorpius sneered at them, grasping the raven-haired boy's arm and pulling him up onto his feet with a barely concealed look of disgust as Albus continued to bleed. The spell had cleaned him, but it hadn't stopped the bleeding. "Come on then, Potter, let's get you to the Hospital Wing."

Albus nodded and picked up his wand carefully, feeling a little paranoid as he turned his back on the Slytherins in order to go through the doors.

No more spells came, however, and soon they were in the hallway and on their way up the stairs toward the third floor where the infirmary was located. For several minutes they walked in silence, with the green-eyed boy shifting to himself before realizing he was still bleeding all over his robes. He pulled out his wand and quickly recited a spell that would temporarily clot the blood in his nose. He couldn't heal just yet, those spells were complicated and dangerous if preformed incorrectly. He didn't want to try them for the first time while pointing his wand blindly at his face. With another cleaning spell, he looked almost as good as new, except for the fact that his nose was still squished and horribly displaced.

Albus broke the silence in a nasally voice, unable to breathe through his nose.

"You know the _Quaero Incantatum_ spell? It's pretty advanced." Albus mumbled, impressed.

"The _what_ spell?" Scorpius frowned, glancing at him as they climbed the final staircase that stood between them and the infirmary.

The smaller boy blinked. "Er, the spell that would trace the Body-Bind curse back to the wand that cast it—_you're _the one who threatened them with it!"

"It's called _bluffing, _Potter. I didn't even know for sure that were _was _a spell that could do that—I'm sure whatever bloke cast that spell didn't know either." Malfoy looked at him flatly, "You're _ridiculous_, you know that?"

"Yeah, well…I try." Albus shrugged, pushing open the door to the infirmary when they arrived.

Scorpius scowled, shaking his head, his hand smoothing over his slicked back hair and narrowing his eyes, "No, you don't try. It's infuriating, actually."

Albus was swooped upon by the elderly woman, who fawned over him and went on and on about how she expected this of his father and brother, but not_ him_. He just apologized and let her attend to him.

Soon enough, his nose was in perfect condition once more. He scrunched up, wiggling it with the tip of his finger to make sure it was brand new.

Scorpius snorted, "It's _fine_."

Albus paused for a long moment and shifted on the bed as Madam Pomfrey went to her office to write a note to excuse them both for being late to their first block class. Albus groaned and pulled his knees to his chest, burring his face in his knees for a long moment. He could vaguely hear the Medi-Witch bustling around her office, sighing as he looked up at the blond, who was sitting there watching him. For a long moment, they merely observed one another, before Albus once more found himself breaking the silence.

"You said… they would be happy to have me."

"No, I didn't," Scorpius sniffed, straightening his posture, "I said the _house _would be _proud _to have you."

Albus attempted to narrow his eyes in the fashion that the blond wizard made look so intimidating. He was fairly sure it didn't work as well as it did for the Malfoy. "…That wording is _awfully_ convenient."

"Convenient or not, it's the truth," Scorpius raised his eyes eyebrows at him, "They're Slytherins, Potter. They aren't going to respect you until you earn it."

"I don't need them to respect me, I just want them to give me a _chance_." Albus replied, somewhat dejectedly.

A flippant response was given. "Slytherins only give _chances_ to those they respect."

Albus paused, brushing his hair out of his eyes and raising the wide green gaze to lock with his almost-friend's.

"Do you respect me, then?"

The owner of those blue eyes barely concealed a the surprise on his features. He collected himself and replied slowly, "…Why?"

"Well, you could say I sort of screwed up when I—stalemated you," the young Potter offered, seeing into the psychology of Scorpius's actions far beyond what the other Slytherin could have understood himself. "But you listened to me. You let me explain."

"You _hijacked_ my _boat_, Potter. What was I going to do, push you _out?"_

The emphasis on his words made Albus all the more certain that he was right.

"With the way these Slytherins act, I'd be surprised if _they _wouldn't be willing to push me into the lake," He commented wryly, gesturing toward the window without a thought. The shimmer of the sun on the lake could be seen through the window they were both seated next to.

"Oh please, Potter," was the dismissive retort.

With a sigh, Albus pointed out, "You still didn't answer my question."

"No, I didn't."

"So I guess you aren't planning to."

"…Your father saved my father's life."

"So? That has nothing to do with you and me."

"Sure it does." Scorpius seemed reluctant to admit the following words, "My father hardly talks fondly of your family, but…he respects your father."

"_What?_"

That was certainly surprising. His father hardly every spoke of Draco Malfoy, but the few times he had come up his father had merely went into a lecture on decision making. He didn't think his father _hated _Draco Malfoy, there were few people his father ever confessed to hating and all of those people were already dead. But he was fairly sure his father didn't _respect _Scorpius's father.

Scorpius looked irked by his inarticulate response.

"I'm not saying they're going to be snuggling by the fire and roasting marshmallows anytime soon."

The darker Slytherin stared. Then burst out laughing.

"Oh, Merlin, that image—" The picture bled into his mind of his father and Draco Malfoy in front of the fire at Grimmauld place in Slytherin and Gryffindor robes with their wands, hovering marshmallows above the flames while chatting about Quidditch.

"Y'know, you barely ever laugh like that." The lighter skinned boy noticed, "Your family is so _loud…_ I would have never guessed a Potter to be one to give his laughs away so sparingly."

"Eh…I guess not. I find myself faking them more often than not at my house. It's not like I try not too or anything….sometimes I feel like they mean less if you do it all the time." Albus explained. He didn't like to smile when he didn't mean it—but a lot of the things his family thought were hilarious, he did not. He had figured out that by laughing along with them it saved him from the curious glances.

Scorpius smirked, "Is that right?"

"Yeah." Albus wiped the tears of laughter away from his eyes. "You still never answered my question, Malfoy."

"Which one was that?" Scorpius asked airily, though Albus knew he remembered.

"_Malfoy,_" Albus tried on the warning tone that the blond had taken with him on the boat. The taller boy only responded to him with a cocked eyebrow, so the young Potter tried again, "Come on, now. This month has been positively _brutal. _You're my only friend in here, if you even are my friend at all, and I just want to know if you respect me or not."

There was silence from the other wizard.

Albus swallowed, sighing deeply, "Is it because you _don't _that you won't answer? Because you don't want to hurt my feelings?"

That reaped a scoff from his friend. "Because I don't want to hurt you…? I'm not _you, _Potter."

Green eyes rolled as Albus crossed his arms over his chest. "Well, then what _is_ it?"

Exasperated with the relentlessness, Scorpius finally replied, "I suppose, yes, I respect you. I respect your mind, because that's the part of you that's truly Slytherin. Your Gryffindork _heart _on the other hand…"

"You're a prat," Albus groaned, though he was secretly relieved.

"It runs in the family."

"That I don't doubt." The grin on the boy's mouth took away any sting there could possibly have been. "So does using an unoriginal term like 'Gryffindork', it seems."

Startled at the shot, Scorpius bit back, "Just like getting your nose broken while under the Body-Bind curse must run in _yours_."

"Yeah, well, it wasn't like I _asked _for history to repeat itself."

"It hardly repeated itself, Potter. If it had, _I _would have been the one to break it."

Pomfrey finally joined them again, starting to hand the note to Albus, before yanking it out of his reach.

"I want you to promise me that you'll do your _very _best to keep yourself out of my infirmary, Mr. Potter," She stated, holding the note out of his reach.

"Of course, I'll do my best, Madame," Albus relayed to her politely, though he hadn't the foggiest idea how he would keep such a promise, if things kept up.

He took the note from her and they excused themselves, heading out and down to their first period class, Potions with Professor Nott. He was actually a very good teacher, and relatively equal in his classes. He refused to take points away from his own house unless it was absolutely necessary, but reserved detentions for those of his house that stepped out of line. He added comedy to his classes, and was patient and well versed in his craft.

Even most of the Gryffindors enjoyed Nott's classes, even if they didn't admit it, which was certainly an uncommon trait in the Potions Masters that came before him.

Though Albus didn't like his policy on alloying them to _take care _of their problems within the confines of the house, he was glad to have a knowledgeable, amiable teacher. Not that Professor Flitwick, Longbottom, Hagrid, Binns, Clearwater and both Scamanders (Luna of Defense Against The Dark Arts and her husband, Rolf of Muggle Studies) weren't just as congenial…but it was more surprising of the Slytherin.

"You know," said his companion suddenly, "I just thought of something. Do you know who Nicolas Flammel is?"

"Sure," Albus answered simply, not sure where this was going, "He was a famous wizard and a friend to Dumbledore. My father mentioned it once."

Scorpius nodded, raising an eyebrow and asking, "Did you know he was the great grandson of Richard Flammel, the man that assassinated Salazar Slytherin?"

Albus nearly stopped walking. History of Magic had never been something he'd looked into on his own. It didn't really interest him, and in the month that he'd been in school Binns hadn't even begun to breach the Hogwarts's Founders. They were still working Before The Common Era, so the creation of Hogwarts would be part of the curriculum for quite some time.

"By that stupid expression on your face, can I assume you _didn't _know that?" There was a smug look on Scorpius's face and it made Albus glare. "Don't give me that look, Potter, it's nice to know something you didn't."

"Well, go on, are you going to make your point or aren't you?"

"Touché." That smirk had not yet settled. "Well, I doubt it's something you'd ever learn in history. It isn't well known…the only reason I know about it is because my father has the diary of one of our ancestors that mentions it."

He was being deliberately being vague and Albus was _exasperated._ "Mentions _what?_"

"Well, that Nicolas Flammel was sorted into Slytherin a few hundred years after Slytherin was assassinated," the blond boy elucidated as they continued down the steps, something else that surprised him. Nicolas Flammel had been a Slytherin? Well, he supposed that made more sense than not, as he'd created a stone with the only purpose of keeping him and his wife alive. "So, as you could probably infer, Flammel was not exactly _welcome._"

Albus nodded slowly, "Alright…we're in a similar boat then. But what does that have to do with anything?"

"Well, Flammel did something. I'm not sure what, exactly…but he basically concocted a way to gain their respect," They paused when they got to the dungeons, stopping in their tracks to stop for a moment longer. The blond continued, "My father still has the book. I can get him to send it by owl if I tell him I want to reread it."

"What do you mean you're not sure? Can't you just tell me?" Albus asked, confused.

"I didn't _read_ it. It's written in Old English, and _besides,_" Scorpius added, as though to dispel the thought that he hadn't read it because it was difficult to understand. "It's mostly boring. But you might find it useful because of your predicament."

Albus didn't understand why he wouldn't read a book he had been given. But that was beside the point.

"If you don't want it—"

"No, no, that'll be brilliant," Albus said quickly, smiling brightly, "I'd love that, thanks."

Scorpius merely nodded curtly. With that, they entered the potions room, handed Professor Nott their note and took their seats.

It was three days before Draco Malfoy sent the package to his son that held the journal of an ancient dead ancestor. It dropped just to the side of Scorpius' plate that morning, landing with a light thud not far out of Albus' reach. The dark haired Slytherin had gazed at it curiously—his friend hadn't mentioned the journal since just after the Hospital Wing, so he hadn't been entirely sure it had been remembered. But there it was, at least, he was fairly sure that was what it was. Scorpius had come through.

Whether or not the diary would actually hold anything of use remained to be seen.

The blond Slytherin handed it to them during potions, but it wasn't until classes were over that he actually had the time to read it. He could have skimmed, but instead he found himself sucked into the story of the life of the man named Caelum Taurus Malfoy. It was hours before he reached the point in Caelum's third year when Nicolas Flammel had joined the ranks of Slytherin. Even Caelum admitted to abhorring the fact that someone like him, the descendant of the man that had ultimately brought his idol to an end, had managed to gain a place in Slytherin.

It was very hard to read in the beginning, because of the style it was written in and the words that were used, but Albus managed to adjust after the first few chapters. Nicolas Flammel had not started out the wise man that he was described as in all of the other books he was briefly mentioned in, instead he was a scared and angry little boy, through the eyes of Caelum Malfoy. Someone worthy of ridicule. Even though people outside of Slytherin applauded them for how well they handled having the son of Salazar's murderer. Just like with the Prophet, it appeared to the rest of the Wizarding world that they were being tolerant, while they were just being fools behind closed doors.

Was that what he was to almost all of Slytherin? Someone worthy of their disdain?

Halfway through the journal and into Nicolas' fourth year at Hogwarts and still there was no change. Was this what Albus's fate was? He had chosen to be true to himself, and for years to come he was going to be tormented like he was _scum _for it?

Each page as he turned it seemed to grow darker with doom. Had Scorpius been Mistaken? No, it couldn't be, it just couldn't be. After all, Nicolas Flammel had not died a hated man-

Then, he _found_ it. That which could possibly make everything better for him—or unimaginably worse.

It could very well earn him the respect of those in his House, since that was how the majority of Slytherin brains seemed to be wired: who was respected and who was disrespected. He could only hope that he would be given a chance to prove himself, as what Nicolas had created was not a formal Hogwarts rule...if not, everything he'd given up by sitting on that stool and letting the Sorting Hat shout what it wanted would have been for nothing.

But it was worth a try.

He waited until everyone got back from supper, standing at the top of the staircase and watching as students filed in through the doors. He was hungry himself, but he would survive, perhaps eat the cookies that his mother had sent him last week that he had been saving for such a time.

Soon the students caught sight of him and paused at the foot of the stairs hesitantly. Curious, scornful and even some worried faces decorated the crowd that was beginning to form before him.

"What is going on here? Don't just stand here, people, get moving." The voice of Theodore Nott filled the room as he walked in, frowning at the stagnant students blocking his way. Many of them moved, but others just turned and directed their attention toward Albus.

"He's blocking the _way_, Professor," A young boy wined.

The potions master frowned, his eyes raising to where the human blockade stood. "On your way, Mr. Potter, we don't have all night."

"No, not yet," Albus replied slowly, gathering up his nerve.

Nott's left eye twitched, "Excuse me?"

"I…" Albus started, swallowing thickly as he paused. Cool blue eyes suddenly flashed from somewhere in the small mob, and he found them. Scorpius didn't know what he was doing, but just the other boy's calm expression and piercing eyes directed at him inspired Albus to go on. "I have something to say."

Nott released a deep breath, obviously trying to be patient. "Then _say _it, Mr. Potter, so we can all get on with our evening."

The young wizard nodded, drew in a long breath and spoke.

"I, Albus Severus Potter, would like to evoke the use of the Snake Trials," Albus started, somewhat shakily, but lifted his chin and spoke up when he continued. "…in accordance with the creator, Nicolas Marvin Damon Richard Flammel, in order to prove that I am worthy of Slytherin's House."

There was nothing but quiet in the room when Albus paused for breath.

"Should I fail to complete the reasonable tasks set forth by the current head of House, I will thereby willingly forfeit myself and be deemed unworthy of Slytherin. Henceforth, I will offer myself up for resorting. I hereby swear_._"

Brilliant emeralds held Nott's dark brown eyes from across the common room. "I am in your hands."

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><p><strong>I just want to say how flabbergasted and happy I am to get all of these reviews. It was waaaaay more than I was expecting and I appreciate every single one. A few notes to share: Though this will be Slash, it won't be for a while. It'll be slow and develop with their ages. Also, there will be about ten or so chapters for every year at Hogwarts. More about what the Snake Trials mean in the next chapter. I hope you found this chapter as fun and interesting as I did. If so—<strong>

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